


Thunderclap

by the_ocean_burned



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Angst, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hybrids, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multiple Relationships, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Smut, Trust Issues, Underground Deuling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ocean_burned/pseuds/the_ocean_burned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, Kuroko finds a stranger in his home, wounded and shackled. Without knowing anything about him, Kuroko takes him in and heals his wounds, but can this stranger learn to trust him? In time, Kuroko discovers that this mysterious man and the world he lives in are something else entirely.<br/>Adopted from SkinandBones. You can find the original here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1938687/chapters/4187670</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hi! I adopted this work from [SkinandBones,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinandBones/pseuds/SkinandBones) and you can find the original [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1938687/chapters/4187670) However, I probably won't be updating for a while, since I need to finish a couple things I've already got started, but I'll get to this one as soon as possible!


	2. Chapter 2

Aomine dreamt of his mother. It was the kind of dream where he knew it was a dream, but that only made it even more realistic. He was back in the fields he had played in as a cub, and his mother was sitting there making flower crowns for him and his friends just like she used to. It was a nostalgic image, one that Aomine wasn’t entirely sure he was emotionally ready for.

She looked up, smiling. Even though he knew through dream logic that he wasn’t a cub like he had been when she had seen him—when she had died—he also knew that she recognized him. Mother’s intuition, he supposed. She set the flowers down on the grass beside her and opened her arms to him wordlessly. Aomine didn’t hesitate to curl into her, purring softly at the feeling of her familiar embrace.

They didn’t say anything; they didn’t need to. Aomine’s mother already knew everything that he wished he could tell her, in the dream, and her arms around him were more of a reassurance than anything she could possibly have said. It was a nice dream, quiet and peaceful and safe, and Aomine didn’t want to wake up.

Unfortunately, he did. He was still lying in Kuroko’s lap, tail curled around the other’s waist. Kuroko had fallen asleep as well, at some point, with a smile on his face and the roses Aomine had given him clutched tightly in his thin, slender fingers. His pale eyelashes brushed up against his cheeks with every flutter of his eyelids as he dreamt, casting delicate shadows over his creamy skin. Aomine smiled fondly and sat up, careful not to wake Kuroko up. The other was truly the epitome of beautiful, no matter how much Kuroko himself tried to convince Aomine otherwise.

Aomine gently shifted Kuroko into a more comfortable positon, so that Kuroko’s head was now in Aomine’s lap. Aomine’s tail was still wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist in a careful, protective manner. As Kuroko slept, Aomine thought. He had been so intoxicated with the idea of freedom when he and Wakamatsu had escaped that he hadn’t thought about the prince for his life, however long that may or may not be, away from Akashi’s rule. Though he didn’t regret the act or the decision themselves, he did regret the pain it had caused so many other people. Because of him, Kise and Kasamatsu were most likely dead, along with the poor man who had undone his chains, and Kuroko was homeless and on the run for his life. Kind, gentle Kuroko had given Aomine food and shelter and a friend, and as a reward for his kindness he had been uprooted from the place he had loved so dearly and forced to become a fugitive to save his own life. Aomine felt horrible for it—Kuroko had never done a thing in his life to deserve that sort of shit—but he was slightly surprised at the same time. Despite everything, Kuroko somehow didn’t even remotely hate Aomine for it all. It was a miracle, really.

Aomine had learned that miracles were not to be taken for granted the day his mother was killed.

Kuroko slept peacefully as Aomine carded his fingers through his pale hair and watched the view from the train window. Kuroko woke about an hour and a half later and the first thing he did was smile up at Aomine in the sweetest manner possible. Aomine smiled back, feeling his cheeks slowly heat up. Kuroko’s smile was almost too pure for the cruel, unfair world he lived in.

“Good morning, Aomine-kun,”

“Afternoon, actually,” Kuroko laughed and sat up, stretching.

“I see. How much longer do we have until our next stop?”

Aomine shrugged. “Hell if I know. I haven’t been paying any attention.”

“That’s because you have the attention span of a cat. You don’t pay attention to anything.”

“Hey!”

Kuroko laughed, reaching up to scratch Aomine behind the ears. It was unfair, how easily Kuroko could win just by doing something as simple as that. Aomine allowed it, though, giving in a purring softly.

They sat like that for another hour or so; Aomine’s tail around Kuroko’s waist and Kuroko’s fingers threading idly through Aomine’s hair. It was deceptively peaceful, curled up against each other and watching the scenery pass by in a blur outside the train’s windows. Aomine found that he enjoyed it immensely; it reminded him of life before Akashi’s men had swept in and ruined everything.

The peace didn’t last long. If he was honest with himself, though, Aomine hadn’t really expected it to last. The train rattled along the tracks, trees whizzing past, and then shuddered slowly to a stop. Aomine tensed; they were in the middle of nowhere, so he knew that it wasn’t because they had stopped at a station.

Kuroko knew it, too. “Did we run out of fuel?”

They both knew it was a weak, naïve excuse, but neither said it out loud; Aomine just shook his head. Suddenly, Aomine caught a whiff of dingy underground, steel, and blood. He knew that smell, and it sent shivers down his spine.

 _“Shit._ We have to go, Tetsu. _Now.”_

Aomine stood and Kuroko did the same. For a moment, Aomine considered leaving through the window, then decided that he’d rather not risk Kuroko breaking a leg or an arm from the fall. The last thing they needed right then was an injury.

Instead, he had Kuroko climb onto his back and peered out of the compartment. There was no one else in the hallway of the car at the moment. Aomine headed for the back of the rain, away from the scent of the damned snake that was Akashi’s current pet. Aomine could only hope Akashi wasn’t waiting for them at the other end of the train. Knowing the redhead, he probably was, but Aomine decided to risk it anyway. He knew he could beat Akashi in a fight; he wasn’t so sure about his ability to kill Mayuzumi. The snake’s disappearing act that he pulled during fights was infamous. Aomine just found it an annoying setback, but he still would rather not risk it. The longer he fought, the higher the chance that Akashi would catch up to him or that Kuroko would be hurt by Akashi or Mayuzumi for helping Aomine. Aomine decided that fleeing was the better option at the moment.

The very last car of the train ended in a railed platform.  Thankfully, there was a ladder hanging from the inside of the railing. Aomine didn’t pause to wonder why it was there, just knew that it was convenient and was vaguely grateful for it. He hung it over the other side of the railing then lowered Kuroko down onto the ladder. Kuroko climbed down; Aomine followed. The instant his feet hit the ground, Aomine had put Kuroko back on his back and was off running. He didn’t shift forms; it would take too long and he didn’t want to lose any more time than absolutely necessary. Mayuzumi was a danger, he knew, and every instinct he had was screaming at him to not do anything stupid, especially if it could out Kuroko at risk.

For once, he listened to them.

He ran straight for the trees. Snake shifters were notorious for getting lost in new places, so he figured that if he could take a more confusing route through the heavily wooded area, they’d be relatively safe. Well, saf _er,_ at least. That was another reason not to shift quite yet; it would be easier for that damned snake to scent him out if he did. Kuroko clung tightly to Aomine, his face pressed into the panther’s shoulder. Aomine didn’t know if it was out of fear or the desire to not be hit in the head by a low-hanging branch.

Aomine ran until he couldn’t feel his legs because he wasn’t paying any attention any more, and then for another half hour or so. Kuroko slid off of Aomine’s back and looked up at him, confused. “What’s wrong? Why did we leave so suddenly?”

“Sorry for the short notice. Akashi sent his little bitch after us and I didn’t want to fight him.”

Kuroko raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “That’s rare. You seem to want to fight anything that moves, usually.”

“Hey! I do not! And anyway, the damned snake does sort of weird disappearing thing during fights. He’d probably slip past me and try to threaten you to get me to go back peacefully.”

Kuroko nodded slowly, processing the information. “I see. I apologize; I seem to have left the roses you gave me on the train.”

Aomine smiled and ruffled Kuroko’s hair. “Nah, don’t worry about it. They would’ve died soon, anyway.”

Kuroko nodded again and smiled up at Aomine. “Okay.”

Aomine flopped onto the ground in a patch of sunlight, yawning. He figured they were far enough away from the tracks for them to rest a little. Damn cat genes for making him sleepy in the warmth of the sunlight.

Kuroko knelt beside him, smiling fondly. He set a cool hand on Aomine’s cheek and Aomine smiled back. “I thought we were in danger?”

Aomine grunted and rolled over, pressing his face into Kuroko’s stomach. He could feel Kuroko’s laugh more than he could hear it. “’S not that much danger.”

“You just want to cuddle,” was Kuroko’s response, and Aomine could tell he was smiling warmly without even looking up.

Aomine didn’t argue the point. Kuroko knew he was right, anyway. He eased himself down beside Aomine, smiling. Aomine was asleep in the warmth before he knew what was going on.

~*~

Mayuzumi watched from the shadows, warring with himself. He had seen Aomine in the fighting ring a few times, and the panther had looked far less alive and far more dangerous than he did in that forest. It was odd. When he had been under Akashi’s control, he had been constantly angry, but his eyes had been almost disturbingly emotionless. Mayuzumi had partially modeled his careful outward detachment after that look in Aomine’s eyes. But then, he was _smiling._ Aomine was asleep, but he was still smiling. Mayuzumi had never imagined that he’d see such a vicious, avid fighter looking so calm and gentle. The pale-haired human, Kuroko Tetsuya if Mayuzumi remembered correctly, seemed to have tamed Aomine, a feat that even the harshest of Akashi’s men hadn’t been able to perform. Mayuzumi couldn’t decide if he thought that was good or bad, but he did know it was surprising.

Mayuzumi, for some reason, couldn’t force himself to move or look away. He knew he should be ripping the human to shreds and dragging Aomine back to Akashi for punishment—he should be doing his job—but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin such a domestic scene. It felt _wrong_ to interrupt, when Aomine was sleeping so peacefully and Kuroko Tetsuya looked so happy petting him.

For a brief moment, Mayuzumi allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be in Aomine’s position right then. Calm, happy, relatively safe, loved… _free._ Mayuzumi banished those thoughts quickly, though, because he knew there was no use wishing for things he’d never have a chance at obtaining. Mayuzumi wasn’t stupid or crazy enough to entertain plans of escape; he knew he would be under the thumb of Akashi and Akashi’s men until the day he died, and refused to illusion himself into believing otherwise.

Kuroko looked up; Mayuzumi started. He knew he hadn’t moved or made any noise to alert the human of his presence, so _why was the human staring?_

“Are you just going to stand there? If you’re going to kill me, then get it over with, please.” Kuroko’s voice was calm, almost accepting. Mayuzumi was shocked. _How did he know?_

Reluctantly, Mayuzumi stepped from the shadows, shaking his head slightly. “I have no intention to kill you.”

Mayuzumi had said it before he had time to think about what he was actually saying. He knew it was true, though, despite the fact that it should have been very much a lie.

Kuroko nodded slowly, the ghost of a smile drifting across his expression. His face was hard to read, Mayuzumi noticed with surprise. One of the upsides of learning how to be unreadable, Mayuzumi had found, was that you got to be very good at reading other people. He couldn’t read Kuroko, though, and it was a more than a little disturbing to realize.

“I see. Well, I suppose I should thank you for that. Also, I guess an apology is in order because, from what Aomine-kun has told me, Akashi-san will be less than pleased that you didn’t bring Aomine-kun back and that you left me alive.”

Mayuzumi inclined his head toward Kuroko in acknowledgement of the thanks, the apology, and the truth of his statement about Akashi. Akashi was most _definitely_ not going to be happy. Mayuzumi wasn’t looking forward to the encounter, because Akashi wasn’t in an even remotely merciful mood that day. He was aggravated that Aomine had evaded him for so long, and Mayuzumi’s failure would only make it worse.

Mayuzumi and Kuroko watched each other carefully, staring unblinkingly for a few more minutes. It was tense, but not threatening. With one last brief not, Mayuzumi stepped back and turned away. He could feel Kuroko’s steady, certain stare follow him back through the trees as he left.

 _There’s something special about that human,_ Mayuzumi mused, _he’s uncanny and he managed to tame Aomine. Akashi may have finally met his match._

The thought felt dangerous, rebellious, and almost wrong, but Mayuzumi found himself vaguely pleased by it. He knew he had made the right choice when he hadn’t done his job, even though he was absolutely certain the decision was going to cost him dearly.

Akashi was waiting for him on the train tracks. The train itself was long gone, and another wasn’t due for hours. Akashi wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the tracks if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain that he was at no bodily risk.

Mayuzumi approached him silently from behind. He knew Akashi knew he was there, because it was Akashi and Akashi knew everything. He was another odd human, though he was uncanny in a different way than Kuroko was uncanny.

“Did you find them?” Akashi didn’t even turn around; Mayuzumi didn’t expect him to.

“No. Aomine didn’t waste any time. They’re long gone.” Mayuzumi shook his head, knowing that the lie was flimsy.

Akashi turned around then, fixing Mayuzumi with his piercing, mismatched stare. “Don’t lie to me. You know you won’t get away with it. Let’s try this again: _did you find them?”_

Mayuzumi found that it took a lot more effort to lie to Akashi’s scarily calm face than it did to lie to his back. “No. They’re gone, Akashi-sama.”

Akashi sighed, shaking his head. “What a shame. I cannot work with a liar, and you are well aware of that, and yet you lie to me anyway.”

Mayuzumi nodded curtly. He had expected nothing less. He knew what was going to happen, and didn’t fight it. To an extent, he figured it was about time. He had taken enough lives in that God-forsaken ring that in some sick, twisted sense, Mayuzumi almost deserved it.

Akashi sighed again, through his nose that time, and pulled a shotgun from his coat. The cold metal glinted almost warmly in the midday sunlight. Akashi examined the gun carefully for a moment before leveling it at Mayuzumi, the barrel pointed right between the snake’s eyes. Neither flinched.

Akashi looked almost regretful as he let three shots loose. None of them missed their mark. Mayuzumi felt three dull, painful impacts in the same spot between his eyes and then nothing at all. He was glad that he had at least gotten to die in the sunlight.

~*~

Takao pressed his palm to the stone brick in the floor beside him, grinning a little as it shifted beneath his weight. The secret underneath it burned to be released, but he wouldn’t allow it to get out so quickly. The keys he had stolen from Midorima felt like some sort of betrayal, but he was desperate to escape from that hellhole.

“Sorry, Shin-chan.” Takao’s words were barely even a whisper; he knew there were people outside his little room, to prevent the very thing he was planning to do.

 _Five more minutes,_ Takao promised himself, fingering the edges of the heavy chains around his wrists. The skin beneath the metal seemed to be more chafed and more painful than usual with the knowledge that they’d be gone soon, one way or another.

Takao knew that it was very possible that he wouldn’t succeed, and that he’d very possible be killed if he didn’t. He was prepared to die; Midorima was always saying things like _“Don’t throw your life away unnecessarily,”_ and _“Just bear it a little longer,”_ but Takao couldn’t do it anymore. He hated killing, and not being able to fly freely was a kind of hell that only the bird shifters could really understand. Takao had thought it through and he honestly would rather die than live another day trapped underground for the sole purpose of killing others to entertain sadistic, evil humans. In all reality, the only reason Takao hadn’t intentionally lost a battle yet to just get _out_ was because Midorima, he knew, would be absolutely crushed if he died. Midorima had to pretend he didn’t care, to protect them both, but Takao knew he cared almost to a fault.

That was part of why Takao felt so guilty about trying to escape. He knew Midorima would be crushed. Takao wanted to take the human with him, he really did, but then he’d be risking both their lives and he didn’t want to make Midorima suffer, too, if he failed.

 _Two minutes._ Takao’s heart was galloping in his chest, going so fast that it was almost painful. He was sure that the guards in the hall could hear it, could hear the biological evidence of Takao’s silent, hopeful rebellion.

 The guards walked out of the hall. Takao pulled the loose rock from the floor and grabbed the keys beneath it. He was convinced that his heart would explode if it kept beating that fast. Takao fumbled to scan in Midorima’s staff card. His chains clicked open and rattled to the floor. Takao felt _light._

He scrambled to his feet, reaching through the bars of the door and grinning when that lock popped open, too. Takao stepped out, almost laughing at how powerful the simple action made him feel. When he looked down the hall, all of his elation died in his throat. Midorima and Miyaji were standing at the end of the hall, staring at him with matching wide-eyed expressions.

For a moment, everything was silent. Takao wanted to run, to say something, to shift, to do _anything,_ but he couldn’t. The blatant look of shocked fear on Midorima’s usually neutral face kept him rooted to the spot.

Miyaji broke the silence with a sigh. He crossed his arms, watching Takao carefully. Midorima moved forward and clutched Takao by the shoulders, shaking the hawk a bit.

“What are you _doing?_ Jesus, Takao, what were you thinking?” Midorima’s words were an angry hissed that scared Takao more than anything.

Takao shook his head, his wings flapping agitatedly. “I can’t _handle_ this anymore, Shin-chan! I just can’t, anymore. I don’t want to kill people; I don’t want to be locked up! I would rather die than hurt anyone else.”

His outburst seemed to have shocked Midorima even more than the rest of the situation. Takao felt a little guilty about it; it wasn’t often that he yelled. There was silence for another moment, then Midorima’s eyes softened. He nodded slowly, then turned to Miyaji.

“Look, I’m sorry, but—”

Miyaji held up a hand and shook his head, smiling a little. “No, I get it, Midorima.”

Midorima smiled a little and nodded again. His hand dropped to his side, reaching to clasp Takao’s. Takao was equal parts relieved and terrified; relieved because Midorima hadn’t tried to stop him and terrified because Midorima was in danger, too. If Takao got caught, he wouldn’t be the only one Akashi would punish. Midorima could die if they failed, too.

Midorima whispered an apology as he jabbed at Miyaji’s neck, hitting the pressure point there perfectly. Miyaji crumpled, knocked out cold by the sharp hit to his nerves. Midorima lead Takao hurriedly out of the passage, up into the main complex.

Takao already felt better. The complex was large, for the most part, with the upsetting exception of the underground cells that the shifters were kept in at night. Unless you were owned by a specific person and were their mindlessly obedient little pet, you got shit for food and living space. Takao refused to be owned by anyone for the sake of what little dignity he had left, even if it would be an advantage for him in the long run. He had kicked and clawed and bit and fought everyone who had tried to tell him that he belonged to them. Eventually, people had stopped trying, and no one tried to “own” him again.

Midorima lead him to a nearby door, then down another hall. At least it wasn’t underground; it was still part of the main complex. Once again, Takao’s good feeling was gone in an instant.

“Shin-chan, where are we going? I was going to fly out through the windows by the arena.”

Midorima shook his head, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “No. Too many surveillance cameras, and those windows are completely sealed shut, anyway. We’ll get out the same way that dumb cat did.”

Takao nodded; it made sense. Midorima was almost always right, so he wasn’t going to argue. He trusted Midorima to keep him safe.

Midorima lead him to a hole in the cement wall, just barely big enough to fit a human through it. Takao wasn’t entirely sure how Aomine had managed to keep the hole a secret from Akashi and his men for long enough to create it, but Takao was impressed and more than a little grateful. It had begun to be fixed, but Midorima was easily able to kick down the flimsy temporary patch job. A waft of cool, fresh night air brushed against Takao and he shivered. He ruffled his wings a little, itching to spread them; to shift and fly in the actual sky without a ceiling above him or a collar around his throat that kept him from going more than ten feet above the ground. Midorima seemed to sense Takao’s restlessness and gently squeezed his hand. Takao understood what he was trying to say. _Soon._

It took more effort than Takao had expected to not just fly off. The sky seemed to call to him, and he desperately wanted to answer; it was hard not to. Midorima’s grip on his hand kept him grounded, though, and he managed to resist. Midorima needed to escape safely, too, which meant that Takao couldn’t go flying quite yet. He wasn’t big enough in hawk form to carry a fully grown human like Midorima.

The guards outside the complex obviously weren’t paying much attention, because Midorima and Takao crossed the open grassy field between the building and the surrounding woods easily. The moonlight, the open air, and the cool breeze were all intoxicating to Takao, after having been trapped inside for years on end. It was only once he was free that he realized exactly how truly inhumanely the shifters were treated by Akashi and his men.

For a brief moment, Takao felt guilty for leaving all the other shifters behind in such a hellhole. Then the trees swallowed him and he knew he’d never be able to regret his decision to leave and never look back. He couldn’t wait to fly again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack so I know it's been forever since an update but guess what I finally got around to! There shouldn't be more than seven chapters (including this one) until the end of the story as a whole, so it won't be long, but you guys have been waiting so long! Sorry!!!   
> Anyway, I've already killed a character, and Mayuzumi won't be the last to die. Hahaha. I'll try to update weekly (or as close to it as I can guess), but I'd expect at least two chapters a month. Sorry again for the long wait!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is extremely late... Sorry about that! I got roped into helping with my school's play at the last second a couple weeks ago, so I've had almost no time to write anything. Also my inspiration has been essentially nonexistent for nearly a month, so.... yeah. Late's better than never, though, right? Oh, well. Have the thing! More eventful stuff happens next chapter, I promise! Regular updates aren't really going to be a thing, though, so sorry about that.

Akashi had thought that the day couldn’t be any more disappointing. Of all the times to be wrong, it _had_ to be then. He knew that there was bad news the moment he stepped out of the helicopter. Two of the newer guards were bickering a little ways off, unaware that Akashi could hear every word they were saying.

“You tell him!”

“Not a chance in hell! You were the one who made Midorima-san take your shift so you could slack off! If _you_ had done your job properly, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“But if I tell him, he’ll kill me!”

“You have to tell him; it’s your fault!”

Akashi sighed softly; their arguing was going to give him a headache at that rate. “Tell me _what?”_

Both of the men visibly paled as they swiveled around on the heels of their feet to face Akashi. Outwardly, Akashi knew he was carefully emotionally neutral,  but it was harder to keep up the façade than usual, after all everything that had happened lately to make him angry. Whatever ultimate power was dictating his life seemed to have turned against him. First Daiki had escaped and continued to evade return, then Kasamatsu and Ryouta had defected. After that, Atsushi had been killed and Akashi had had to kill Mayuzumi for his lies. Akashi had regretted the loss of a good analytical mind, but he had had to prevent the snake’s defection before it happened. And then, a pair of guards were arguing over who was going to deliver what was no doubt anything but good news to him.

All in all, Akashi was neither in a good mood nor a merciful one at the moment. The two men were right to be afraid.

“Tell me _what?”_ Akashi repeated.

The two men exchanged a glance and the one who had been told it was his fault swallowed nervously.

“Ah, Akashi-sama, um… There’s been another escape.” The man blurted.

Akashi took a moment to process the information and make sure that he was, at the very least, visibly calm. “And who was it _this_ time?”

“T-two people. A hawk shifter, a-and a guard.”

Akashi inhaled deeply through his nose and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He obviously wasn’t going to get names from the two idiot guards; he made a mental note to ask Tatsuya later.

“And _how_ did they escape?”

The two men exchanged another nervous glance and there was a hesitant silence. “They… They got out through the hole the other escapees used.”

Akashi sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was under the impression that that was being fixed and that it was to be guarded around the clock until that job was _completely_ finished.”

The one who had been accused of being at fault earlier shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other under the pointed stare of his companion. “Well, I was, um, taking a break from guarding that exit and, er…”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been slacking off. Akashi took a moment to collect himself, then sighed again. The guard looked terrified, and rightly so. Akashi turned to two of the security guards who had accompanied him in the helicopter and waved a hand in the direction of the other two men. “One of you dispose of those two useless fools and the other needs to go find Tatsuya and bring him here. When you’re done with that we have a visit to make.”

Akashi turned around, ignoring the pair of gunshots that sounded behind him. He needed to collect someone, and he was sure that seeing something burn would improve his mood.

~*~

All in all, Furihata had been having a pretty good day. Business was slow, so he got to sit in the sunlight filtering through his window and read for most of the day. It was a nice, calm day, and he expected it to be the same that evening, just like always.

Furihata knew that wasn’t the case as soon as the bell of the front door opening jingled almost three hours after he had closed the shop. He turned from the book he had been putting away, smiling amiably. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed. You could come back—”

The smile fell from his face. Akashi stood in the doorway, eyes cold and arms crossed. Furihata shivered in gear; Akashi was very obviously pissed off beyond belief.

“Why are you here again? You visited less than a week ago. Leave.” Furihata was instantly on the defense, eyes narrowed and muscled tensed in an instinctual fight-or-flight reaction.

“No. You have no right to demand that of me, Kouki. There’s been a change of plans; you can’t stay here any longer.” Akashi’s ton of voice scare Furihata more than anything. It was cold and clipped and held none of the warmth Furihata was used to having directed at him from Akashi.

“What do you mean? I still have a few more months before I my rime is up. I’m not going back to you; not yet.” Furihata snarled.

Akashi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he stepped forward. Furihata stepped back, pressing his back against the edge of the countertop. Akashi approached steadily, a dull, angry fire burning in his mismatched eyes. He got so close that Furihata could feel Akashi’s breath puffing coldly against his face. It made the dachshund extremely uncomfortable.

“That wasn’t an offer, nor was it a request. You are coming back to me, under the same conditions as before. You can finish your three years elsewhere at a later date, but I’d prefer to keep an eye on you until this unfortunate situation is over with.”

That brought Furihata up short. “Situation? What do you mean, _situation?_ Have you not caught Aomine yet? If I go with you, you have to explain to me what’s going on?”

Akashi paused, nodded, and took a step back. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let Furihata breathe a little better. “That’s fair enough. I’ll explain later, then; for the moment we’re going to leave. If there’s anything you want to take with you, get it now. You have five minutes.

Akashi took another step away from Furihata and the dachshund scrambled to the tiny bedroom in the back of his shop. His heart was pounding, partially out of terror and partially out of sheer confusion. He didn’t know what was going on, but Akashi was angry and forceful and it scared Furihata to no end. Usually, Akashi was almost sweet to him, which brought up emotions that Furihata would rather forget, but there had been none of that. Furihata was absolutely terrified.

He shoved a few pictures, clothes, and his basic kit into a battered suitcase and was back out to Akashi in the front store in less than the five minutes he had been allotted. His obedience, albeit reluctant, seemed to please Akashi at least a little, because his eyes were gentler than they had been before when he turned to face the dachshund.

“Let’s go, then, if you’re ready.”

Furihata nodded reluctantly and cast one last longing look around the shop as he followed Akashi out. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t dare defy Akashi when he was angry. Furihata valued his life and his limbs more than his freedom, especially when Akashi was in a bad mood like that.

Furihata followed Akashi meekly, reluctantly, through town to the top of one of the hills that stood to the east. It was only then that Furihata noticed the smoke billowing from the buildings and the fire flickering in many of the windows. He let out a small, strangled noise and Akashi smiled coldly. “They saw too much. I should have done this earlier, really.”

Furihata watched, horrified, as the town burned. Akashi was still smiling. Furihata pretended that the sting of the smoke was what was bringing tears to his eyes; he wouldn’t give Akashi the satisfaction of seeing him cry if it was the last thing he did.

~*~

Himuro watched from a distance as Akashi’s men – he liked to call them sheep, since they were so disgustingly subservient in Akaashi’s presence – set about burning down the town that Aomine had stepped foot in for probably no more than an hour at most. Himuro tried not to think about the people who would wake up in agony, life for a few minutes in agony, and die in agony.

He was not successful. He thought about it and felt sick.

Himuro winced when the screaming started, moving further away. He still couldn’t escape the acrid stench of the smoke or the tortured screeching from the direction of the town. It was fainter, at least; not as obvious.

Himuro wandered a little further off, in the direction of the house Atsushi, Kise, and Kasamatsu’s bodies had been burned with. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but he’d get over it eventually, he knew. Himuro had tried countless times to convince himself that Atsushi had just been another shifter, not anyone important in the grand scheme of things. It never worked, but he had to try anyway. At least sometimes it helped Himuro sleep, at least for a little while.

His depressing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of huffed, frantic breaths approaching him from the other side of the hill. Himuro’s heart rate doubled. _A survivor from the town? Did someone make it out in time?_

It turned out that the answer was no. The redhead puffing his way up the hill wasn’t in what looked to be any kind of sleepwear, he didn’t look tired at all, and he wasn’t burnt or singed in any way. That, and the redhead was coming from the direction of the house that had been previously demolished, not the town that was ablaze at the moment.

Himuro turned away from the redheaded man, partly because his grief was none of Himuro’s business and partially because he felt guilty about allowing Akashi to do such an overly horrific thing. Unfortunately, his luck was as bad right then as it had been for the entire week.

“Oi! Hey, you! What’s going on?” The redhead panted.”

Himuro turned with a sigh, carefully modeling his face into the perfect mask of nonchalance. “It’s—”

“Wait a second. Himuro? Himuro Tatsuya?” The stranger interrupted; Himuro blinked confusedly.

 _How does he know my name?_ “Excuse me, but do I know you? Himuro asked quietly.

In response, the man pulled a simple iron chain from beneath his shirt. Hung on the chain was an equally simple metal ring; plain, but Himuro recognized it right away; he himself had the matching one stashed away in a drawer, away from prying eyes and inquiring minds. Himuro did, indeed, know him. The mam in front of him was Kagami Taiga, a childhood best friend that Himuro still considered a brother to that day.

“Holy shit. Kagami?” Himuro asked, his voice tinged dully with disbelief.

Kagami grinned—which Himuro was surprised by, considering the situation at the moment—and pulled Himuro into a brief hug. “Holy hell. Where the fuck have you even _been_ for the last—Jesus, has it really been six years already?”

Himuro nodded. “It has. I’ve been helping run an illegal fighting ring full of shape-shifters that most of the world is unaware exist for the last four and a half years. You?”

Kagami laughed; Himuro knew he figured that it was a joke on Himuro’s part. “Hah! I’ve been working as a doctor. But seriously, what have you been up to?”

Himuro sighed softly. “I already told you. My boss is the one who ordered the town be destroyed. He’s most likely enjoying watching it burn at the moment.”

Kagami’s smile began to fade when he realized that Himuro wasn’t just joking around. “Wait, really?”

Himuro nodded. “Well, shit, man. That’s rough.”                                               

Himuro nodded again. “Some days are much worse than others.”

The mention of Akashi reminded Himuro that he needed to return to the helicopters soon. He knew that when it came to Akashi, it was far better to be early than it was to be late. _Especially now,_ Himuro mused, _when we’ve been having so many defectors lately._

Kagami seemed very thoroughly confused and visibly looked like he was having a hard time wrapping his head around Himuro’s sort-of-career choice. Himuro could easily understand why.

“I hate to cut our reunion short, but I really do have to get going.” Himuro said reluctantly.

Kagami’s face fell further, but he nodded. “Oh, okay.”

Himuro hesitated for a moment. “What’s your address. How about I stop by Friday at five?”

Kagami grinned again and nodded, rattling off his address by memory. Himuro nodded back, glad that he had a good memory. After an extremely nostalgic fist bump that brought back memories of childhood basketball games and general happiness, Himuro headed back to the helicopter that he and Akashi had arrived in. He left Kagami standing on the hilltop, watching thoughtfully as the unfortunate town was leveled.

The last few screams died on the wind as the helicopter left, the only remnants of their lives being the charred bones, the ashes of the buildings, the hollowed-out shells of a few structures, and the dead screams of the dying that would certainly haunt Himuro’s nightmares for the next several mostly-sleepless nights.

~*~

By nightfall, Aomine and Kuroko were comfortably settled in a hotel. Aomine had pickpocketed several people for money, but Kuroko had just used his debit card. Being on the run wasn’t how Kuroko had planned on using his life’s savings, but he figured it was a better idea than letting Aomine use his illegally-acquired money. Besides, Kuroko would much rather sleep in a bed that was probably not infested than on the streets. Showering was nice, too.

“Tetsu, we’re going on a date.” Aomine announced as Kuroko emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his neck to catch the water dripping from the ends of his hair.

Kuroko raised his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, really? Is this the next step of your courting process?”

Aomine nodded, seeming pleased with himself. “Yep. It won’t be all fancy and shit, but it’ll be fine, right?”

The panther looked too eager for Kuroko to say no. It was fine, anyway, anything excessive like Aomine had no doubt wanted to do would have made Kuroko exceptionally uncomfortable. He nodded and smiled a little, sitting down cross-legged on the bed beside Aomine.

“Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”

Aomine grinned and Kuroko knew that no matter what happened—no matter how much of a disaster the date may or may not end up as—that ecstatic expression would be completely worth it. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes while Kuroko toweled off his hair. Aomine watched, then put his hands atop Kuroko’s.

“Can I do it for you?” Aomine’s voice was almost shy. It was quite endearing.

Kuroko nodded and lowered his hands, folding them neatly in his lap. Aomine took up the slack quickly. It was a little rough at first, as Aomine figured out how much pressure to use, but then it became comforting. Kuroko’s eyes slipped shut and he smiled; Aomine’s hands were large and warm and gentle against his scalp. The feeling of someone else toweling off his hair dry was surprisingly nostalgic; it reminded Kuroko of when his grandmother would do the same thing for him when he was little. It was nice.

Eventually, Aomine dropped the towel onto the bed, deeming Kuroko’s hair dry enough. Kuroko had lost track of time in the domesticity of the moment, but the feeling was gone as soon as he opened his eyes.

“You ready? We should get going before all the places around here close.” Aomine was very obviously trying—and failing miserably—to conceal his excitement.

Kuroko smiled, nodding as he stood with a stretch. Aomine practically jumped off the bed; Kuroko found his enthusiasm to be quite endearing.

“Great. Let’s go.”  Aomine was rocking back and forth anxiously on his heels as he waited for Kuroko to put on his shoes.

Kuroko barely had time to grab a thin jacket before Aomine was pulling him out the door, nearly dragging him down the gall by his hand. Kuroko couldn’t help but smile; Aomine’s enthusiasm was contagious. Aomine slowed down once they were outside the hotel, giving Kuroko an apologetic smile. Kuroko gave him a kiss on the cheek in return.

Aomine had lead Kuroko to a fast food place a few blocks from the hotel. He looked rather sheepish that that was where they were going for their first date, but Kuroko didn’t really care. Aomine had to work with what he had, after all, and Kuroko hoped that there would be many more dates after their first.

They sat down after getting their orders and ate in relative silence, though it was a soft, lovely kind silence that made Kuroko smile into his vanilla smoothie. The food was surprisingly good quality, for fast food restaurants, at least. Aomine seemed pleased with himself, like he had planned it all so that the food would be particularly good that night, even though Kuroko knew that the panther had probably just taken him to the nearest restaurant that didn’t look like it would be infested with fleas within the budget. _At least he didn’t steal any more money,_ Kuroko figured.

When they were done with their meal, Aomine didn’t take him immediately back to the hotel. Kuroko was a little surprised but he didn’t say anything, instead opting to try to figure out where they were going. Aomine’s hand was almost unnaturally warm against his own, and the temperature difference made the rest of Kuroko’s body feel cold. Aomine lead Kuroko to a park that sat right on the edge of a river. It seemed like everything stopped beneath the trees; even the bugs were silent. It was calm and peaceful, and the moon was full so there was moonlight filtering through the leaves and turning the ground silver. It was a truly beautiful sight, and Kuroko was glad that Aomine had found the park, whether it was accidental or otherwise.

Aomine stopped on the bank of the river, turning toward Kuroko. He watched the river for a moment, marveling at the way the moonlight sparked off of the water and made it look like it was filled with precious gems, before facing the panther. Aomine was smiling as the hand that wasn’t twined with Kuroko’s came up to cup the human’s face with more gentleness than most could expect from him. Aomine leaned in and kissed Kuroko gently, staying for just long enough for Kuroko to melt into it before he pulled away. Kuroko grinned and leaned up to kiss Aomine again, chuckling under his breath.

“Thank you. You’re very sweet, Aomine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again that it's so late! I hope you like it, though!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was another long break between chapters. I'm sorry guys, I really am; I'm really bad at updating this, apparently. On the other hand, the next break has an actual reason because I'm going across the country for a month to visit my grandparents. However, I will do my damndest (I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, but I'll try) to get at least one more chapter out before I leave on the 14th.

Chapter 16

 

Takao had missed this. The feeling of air sifting between his feathers, the wind against his face, the powerful feeling that flooded through his hollow bones with each flap of his equally powerful wings. It was hard to Takao to put into words how amazing it felt to be flying freely again; it was impossibly to fully explain to Midorima how much flying meant to Takao. At the very least, though, Midorima seemed to have at least a vague idea of how much Takao loved to fly so he didn’t force the hawk to stay earthbound for long. It had only been two days since they had escaped, but Midorima had deemed that they were far enough away from that hellhole for Takao to fly safely.

Takao couldn’t even begin to pretend to want to reject the offer. He circled happily above Midorima, carving lazy looping trails out of the sky with the edges of his wings as he soared along the same path the human was walking below him. Takao cawed happily, ecstasy flooding through every inch of his impossibly light body. He had nearly forgotten that he was capable of being so carefree; being forced to kill people – some of whom he had considered to be his friends at one point or another – for entertainment had been rather stressful.

The noise drew Midorima’s gaze up and Takao swooped lower, alighting happily on Midorima’s outstretched forearm. Midorima stroked a finger gently through the soft feathers at the base of Takao’s neck, making the hawk churr happily and lean into the touch.

“I know you’re excited,” Midorima murmured, his eyes uncharacteristically soft behind his glasses, “but you need to keep quiet. We aren’t out of danger yet, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be caught.”

Takao bobbed his head in the closest thing he could get to a nod in his hawk form and took off again. He was vaguely aware that Midorima was still watching him; he couldn’t really summon the spare emotion to be flattered or embarrassed. The sky’s call was much too strong to resist, singing through Takao’s veins like electricity through an exposed wire. The adrenaline practically rang in his ears. Takao resisted the urge to shriek again to let the world know just how purely happy he was in that moment.

 _I’m flying, I’m flying I’m flying. I’m flying. I’m_ free.

In that moment, Takao was completely and utterly at peace. He wasn’t worried about being heard or seen or caught; he wasn’t worried about being followed; he wasn’t worried about whatever came next. Right then, Takao wasn’t worried about absolutely anything at all. It was impossible to be, really, when he was high on the feeling of flying. It was the pure sort of bliss that was rare enough was it was, but with being enslaved and all, Takao had nearly forgotten that that sort of absolute, unconditional happiness even existed in the first place. He decided that at the very least, that was one thing he would enjoy rediscovering.

A gunshot cracked sharply, loud and clear and nearby, effectively obliterating the moment. Takao brought himself to a stop midair, circling in place frantically to try and find the source of the sound. He knew that it would probably just be a hunter or some asshole that enjoyed shooting at birds and small, defenseless animals, but he wanted to be sure. That and no bullet had even passed him by, so either they were a really bad shot or they hadn’t been shooting at him.

That thought made Takao’s heart seize in terror and he cast his gaze to Midorima, who was directly below him. The human was on his knees, clutching at his side, and Takao could see red seeping slowly from between Midorima’s fingers. In that moment, Takao cursed his good vision because he didn’t want to be able to see every crease of pain that lined Midorima’s face; the glint of fear in his green eyes; any of the poorly concealed terror in Midorima’s expression. Takao didn’t want to be able to notice those tiny details under any circumstances, and he certainly didn’t want to be able to see them from so far away because it was so damned agonizing to watch. Takao watched, as he had so many times before, that Midorima had wings, too, so that they could escape together and fly off into the sunset, easy as anything. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like anything in Takao’s life was easy at all, least of all right then.

Another gunshot rang out, but that time it _was_ aimed at Takao. He could feel the bullet just barely brush against the tips of his feathers as it passed. The sensation sent a jolt of fight-or-flight adrenaline through him and Takao dove, tucking his wings in as close to his body as he could physically manage and hurtling headfirst toward the ground. The source of the bullets and, by extension, the gunshots, was obvious now; a pair of green- and black-clad men, both with very large guns pointed directly up at Takao’s tiny form as he swerved through the air. Takao dully noticed Midorima throwing himself flat against the ground; he must have noticed what Takao was doing and was trying to avoid getting hit by as many stray bullets as possible, no matter how much it must have aggravated his wound to do so. Takao fling himself into one of the men’s faces, clawing and pecking and flapping his wings wildly. The man shouted in panicked confusion and dropped his gun in favor of raising his arms in a futile attempt to ward off Takao’s attack. The second man hesitated, clearly trying to decide whether to shoot and risk killing his friend or to help the other man remove Takao from his face. The second man decided to shoot after a few moments of internal debate. The instant Takao heard the man cock his gun, he had shot into the air with a quick upward stroke of his wings. The had moved just in time; the gun cracked not even half a second later and the man Takao had been attacking crumpled to the ground with a heavy, solid-sounding thump.

Takao dove again, his already blood-covered talons glinting red in the midday sunlight as they stretched toward the second man’s face. The man screamed, but even the pure, undiluted terror in the sound didn’t give Takao as much as a second’s hesitation. This was partially because of how many times Takao had heard that exact same sound from his opponents in the arena, whom he had killed to survive – after a few months of that sort of brutality he had become nearly entirely desensitized to it – and partially because those men had hurt Midorima. _No one_ hurt Midorima and walked away unpunished, especially not in front of Takao. He didn’t get serious about many things, but Takao took Midorima’s well-being more seriously than he took his own.

He continued to slash at the man’s face even after he had dropped his gun; as much as Takao hated killing, he knew he couldn’t leave the man alive and risk word getting back to Akaashi. If those two men had found them, who knew how many more would do the same? It was an awful thought. Takao knew that being dragged back to Akaashi, no matter how cooperative he was, would mean being turned into an “example.” Akaashi’s “examples” always died in slow, agonizing, very public and often humiliating ways.

The struggle lasted for what felt to Takao like hours but was probably only ten minutes at the most. It ended when Takao’s talons ripped into the man’s neck and through an artery, blood bursting from the vein and splattering against Takao’s feathers. The man gurgled for a few seconds and then joined his friend on the ground, quickly bleeding out. By that point, his face had been so thoroughly shredded by Takao’s sharp talons that it was hard to tell he had even been human, much less pick out any defining features from the bloody, fleshy mess.

Takao took a moment to shift back to his human form, ignoring the coppery tang of blood coating his tongue and the crimson dripping from his fingers in favor of dropping to his knees at Midorima’s side. He helped Midorima sit up, feeling a little sick as he noticed the bloody hand prints he was leaving all over the human. Midorima had two of his fingers in his side down to the first knuckle, wincing as he moved them in an attempt to dig the bullet out. Takao watched, feeling a little nauseous and more than a little helpless as Midorima drew the bullet out of his side, the thick end of it precariously gripped between the tips of his fingers. Midorima let the bulled fall to the ground and slumped back to lean heavily against a tree, the pain clearly having exhausted him.

Takao tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of one of the men’s undershirts, then wadded it up and gently pressed it to Midorima’s wound. Midorima hissed and tried to pull away from the painful pressure, but Takao set a pal on the human’s chest and he reluctantly complied. After a couple tense, worried minutes, the bleeding appeared to have stopped, or at the very least slowed down significantly. Takao breathed out a sigh of relief. The bullet didn’t appear to have hit any arteries or major blood vessels, so Midorima would definitely live as long as nothing got infected.

“Shin-chan, I—” Takao started to apologize. He wanted to apologize, because it really was his fault to begin with, but Midorima shook his head and placed a gentle finger – thankfully not one of the bloody ones – to Takao’s lips. His calloused knuckles caught lightly on the dry, slightly cracked skin of Takao’s lower lip as Midorima pulled his finger away.

“Don’t even start, Takao. This wasn’t your fault—none of it.” Midorima shook his head again as Takao began to protest, raising a weak hand to keep Takao quiet. “No. Look, whatever stupid things are going through your head, shut them up. Stop being so unreasonably guilty about everything.”

Midorima’s tone was rough but gentle, though it was a little strained with the effort of sounding normal despite the pain he was very obviously in. Takao smiled and cupped Midorima’s cheek in his hand gently, ignoring the way the half-dried blood on his hand stuck their skin together. Midorima learned into the touch, the ghost of a smile drifting across his expression. Takao leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Midorima’s. The kiss didn’t last more than a few seconds, but it felt like it should have lasted much longer. Under different circumstances, it probably would have.

“We should probably get moving again.” Takao murmured reluctantly. “Someone probably heard the gunshots and we have to get you somewhere we can treat your wound properly.”

Midorima nodded and braced himself, grimacing as he moved to stand. Takao scrambled to help him but Midorima shook his head. Takao sighed unhappily, but didn’t make any more moves to try to help; he knew just how annoyingly stubborn the human could be. He watched as Midorima stood up slowly, swaying a little and blinking as if trying to clear his vision. Then Midorima motioned Takao toward him and the hawk rushed to comply. He gently slipped one of the human’s arms over his shoulder, shifting Midorima’s weight from the tree and onto Takao’s body.  Although Takao tried to be gentle and slow with the process to prevent aggravating the injury, Midorima still grunted in pain. Takao bit back another apology, knowing he’d just be told to be quite.

It was slow going from that point on; they had to take several pauses and rests to make sure Midorima didn’t make himself bleed again. The last thing Takao wanted was for Midorima to bleed out in his arms; that would just make everything a hundred times worse. Midorima was the only reason that Takao was still sane, at that point; the human had been gentle where everyone else Takao could remember was brutal. It had been Midorima who had taught Takao that not all physical contact hurt; Midorima who had been the first person who Takao trusted; Midorima who had dreamt of escape with him; Midorima who had kept him alive and fed even when Akaashi ordered Takao be starved for ‘misbehavior.’ Takao didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he lost Midorima.

The sun set an hour or so before they finally found any hint of civilization. Takao helped Midorima up the gravel driveway, wondering why someone had built a house it what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. However, by the highway they had crossed to approach the building, there was probably a town within a couple miles. Whatever the reason, Takao was grateful; he only hoped that whoever was living in the house wouldn’t ask too many questions. It wasn’t like Takao could really hide his wings, after all.

They reached the steps and before Takao could overthink things, he knocked.

~*~

Himuro really didn’t know what he was doing. He spent a good five minutes standing hesitantly in front of Kagami’s door, resisting the urge to pace; his footsteps on the wood porch would be heard eventually and he didn’t want to call attention to himself. He had managed to escape Akaashi’s clutches and found Kagami’s house, which was a little isolated but Himuro could see the appeal. And yet, Himuro was torn. Was it wise to go behind Akaashi’s back? The answer to that was a fairly obvious _no._ Did Himuro want to get back in touch with Kagami? Again, he knew the answer immediately: _yes_. He had missed the redhead, even if he hadn’t really realized it. Was it a good idea to tell Kagami what he had been doing for the last six years? That was where Himuro paused. On one hand, Himuro knew that he had done some horrific things over the years in Akaashi’s service, and he didn’t want to taint Kagami’s image of him with the knowledge that he had been so brutal. Kagami had always thought of him as an older brother, and Himuro didn’t want to lose that. On the other, Himuro’s morals told him that yes, Kagami should know because he deserved the truth, if nothing else, after so many years of silence. It was hard to decide.

Himuro ended up standing in front of the door for another several minutes before he finally sucked in a breath and knocked. The response was almost immediate; the door flew open before Himuro could exhale. Kagami leaned against the doorframe, grinning teasingly.

“It’s about time. How long were you planning on standing out there?” Kagami chuckled and stood back.

Himuro could feel his cheeks heating up and hoped that it wasn’t visible. He stepped through the door and toed off his shoes, glancing around subtly. “You’ve started paying more attention to your surroundings.”

Kagami chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the side awkwardly. “Er, no, not really. To be honest, I’ve been staring out the window for the last couple hours.”

Himuro couldn’t help but laugh. He had almost forgotten what it was like; there wasn’t much opportunity for humor when you worked under Akaashi, so laughter wasn’t really a thing that happened very often. Kagami looked confused for a moment, then smiled sheepishly. Himuro quickly hid his amusement and forced his face back into neutrality. It was habit, really, but it seemed to worry Kagami.

“Here, come on in. I’ve got dinner cooking, so you should stay and eat.”

Himuro hesitated to approve, but then decided that he would probably already be in trouble when he got back so another hour or so wouldn’t hurt. “Sure, why not?”

Something in Kagami seemed to relax; he grinned over his shoulder at Himuro. “Great! The kitchen is just through here.”

They stepped into a room that Himuro was honestly surprised by. Huge glass windows lined the walls and the floor was real wood, at least from what Himuro could tell. There was only a low table in the room, so it seemed larger and more spacious than it probably was. Himuro took a seat at the table, trying to hide his awe. It had been a long time since he had seen a house so clean and rich; living underground had taken more of a toll than he had realized.

“Doctors make more money than I remember,” Himuro muttered. Kagami laughed, taking a seat across from Himuro.

“I guess. Med school was a pain in the ass, though.”

Himuro felt his face getting hot again; Kagami hadn’t been supposed to hear that. It had just been a thought that wasn’t supposed to slip out.

They sat in silence for a while, the atmosphere somewhere in the grey area between awkward and comfortable. After a few minutes, Kagami stood back up to go check on the food that was in the oven. When he deemed it done, he served it out to himself and Himuro and sat back down.

The food was good. Himuro was vaguely surprised, and he knew it showed because Kagami chuckled under his breath. Himuro didn’t like this, he decided. He had survived so long with Akaashi because he was emotionless and brutally honest. Himuro’s previous friendship with Kagami had instilled some sort of permanent trust in Himuro, so somehow he felt like he could be a little more open, a little more expressive than usual because of it. It felt wrong, though; after so long of being so closed off it was scary to be able to be open about his emotions.

Kagami and Himuro did the dishes together when they were done eating; Himuro washed and Kagami dried because he knew where to put the dishes. That silence was more relaxed than it had been before but Himuro still wanted to break it.

“So,” Himuro started quietly, tilting his head so that his bangs blocked Kagami’s face from view. It somehow felt like it wasn’t a good idea to look at his childhood friend, as if something inside him could sense what was coming next. “I didn’t know you could cook. You do it well.”

Kagami chuckled, the sound warm and deep and so nostalgic it almost hurt. “Thanks. Just be glad you never had to suffer through Riko’s food; once it actually made an entire group of people get delayed food poisoning or some shit.”

Kagami’s voice was fond, but there was a tinge of sadness to it that made Himuro’s chest tighten guiltily. He got the feeling that the loss was recent and had the uneasy suspicion that Akashi had been the cause.

When they were done with the dishes, Kagami and Himuro stood in an awkward silence for a moment. Kagami was the one to break it.

“So,” he started, “you’re a co-leader of an illegal fighting ring?”

The invitation to elaborate was there and very obvious, but Himuro didn’t particularly want to oblige. He wanted to keep things the way they were between him and Kagami, and he wasn’t anywhere near naïve enough to try to convince himself that Kagami’s opinion of him wouldn’t change. Of course, Himuro, as a realist, knew that that opinion change would probably be negative, but there was a tiny part of him that remained optimistic. That bit of him was extremely annoying.

Kagami’s patient, expectant stare was the final push Himuro needed to spill. He told Kagami _everything;_ every nitty-gritty, disgusting, horrifying detail he had witnessed since he had last seen Kagami. Kagami just listened, his rapt gaze fixed on Himuro as he talked. Not once did Kagami interrupt, and Himuro was glad for it. He wasn’t sure that he would have been able to continue had he been stopped in the middle of his story.

It was silent for a moment after Himuro was done quiet, though he and Kagami had different reasons for staying quiet. Kagami was absorbing information, sorting through it and trying to make sense of what his childhood best friend had become. Himuro was compartmentalizing all the hell he had just revisited. He was trying to face what he had become: a heartless, murderous slave to an even more heartless, even more murderous demon of a man. Himuro bowed his head, waiting for Kagami to kick him out. It was inevitable, surely.

“Well, fuck. That’s… fuck.” Himuro couldn’t help but laugh at Kagami’s sudden inability to string sentences together.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Himuro stood and moved toward the front of the house. “Thank you for the meal; it was good to catch up.”

“Oi, Himuro!” there was a crash and then thundering footsteps. Himuro turned to see Kagami racing to get in between him and the door. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You can’t drop a bombshell like that on me and then just leave!”

Himuro blinked, confused. “What do you mean? I’ve killed people, Kagami. How do you still want me here? How do you know I won’t kill you, too?”

Kagami scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Because it’s you. You wouldn’t kill me if your life depended on it. We’re brothers, remember?”

For a moment, Himuro didn’t know how to respond. He had the blood of countless men, women, children, and shifters on his hands, and somehow Kagami didn’t seem to care. How was that even possible?

Kagami seemed to understand Himuro’s confusion; he clapped Himuro on the shoulder. “Look, man, as long as you aren’t some psychopath I don’t really care, and by the sound of it it’s your boss who’s the psycho, not you. Don’t worry about it.”

Himuro nodded. Before he could verbalize his thanks, there was a gentle tap on the door. Both Kagami and Himuro paused; after a moment the sound was repeated. Kagami opened the door. On the other side stood a man with black hair supporting another man with green hair. The green-haired man was bleeding through the shoddy bandage job on his side; Himuro had spent enough time around bullets to know that he had been shot. He had also spent enough time watching fights to recognize Takao and Midorima. Takao looked up, opening his mouth – probably to plead for help – then his eyes widened and his words shriveled into a near-whimper. Midorima looked up, an expression to tired resignation flickering across his face when his gaze landed on Himuro. Takao like he was going to start crying out of frustration.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that just happened.


	5. NOT AN UPDATE - Sorry!

Hi, guys!

 

First of all, I'm sorry this isn't an actual chapter. I know that it's been  _forever_ since I've updated this, but A) life has been hectic and B) I haven't had the inspiration. Because of this, I'm afraid I have to follow in the original author's footsteps and drop the story.

I really do love Thunderclap, but I simply haven't had the inspiration to work on it and I don't want to give you guys the subpar sludge that is the result of me forcing myself to write. You guys deserve the best and I simply can't give you that anymore. 

If you're interested in continuing and/or finishing this story, please message me and we can talk! I would love to see this wonderful idea brought to completion but I myself can't do it and give you wonderful fans what you deserve. 

Again, I'm sorry for this. I know it's disappointing to see this fic be abandoned again and I know that it's not what you wanted after having waited so patiently for so long, but you'll all get better quality writing out of the next author. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hey, guys!

It's been quite a while, and there still hasn't been anyone willing to pick this fic up. While I know that life can be a pain in the ass, I'd really like to see this story line finished, because it really is a good idea, and I'd hate to see it die. So, if there's anyone who'd like to continue this story for us, leave me a comment, please!


End file.
